The Betrothal
by groverspanpipes
Summary: Love. Power. Drama. Percy and Annabeth are betrothed, and the marriage date is set for Annabeth's birthday. The Crown Prince has just arrived at English court. Will three weeks be enough time for them to fall in love, or will their nations rip their romance apart? Rated T for paranoia, themes.
1. Chapter 1

It's June 22 and Annabeth has just woken up.

She lies in her bed for a moment, her hair a golden halo around her head, before sitting up and looking out of the window. Over the castle grounds are servants walking back and forth, and two figures strolling slowly over the green. One laughs loudly, and Annabeth hears it through her open window— it is her mother's laugh, and now she can see the smooth dark brown hair, the silver belt she always wears.

It's June 22 and Annabeth has forgotten, just for a moment, what will happen today. The sun, still rather low over the east horizon, tells her it is early in the morning. She gets out of her bed, drinks from a jug of water on her nightstand, and suddenly remembers. It's the day her betrothed comes to the kingdom and she can finally meet him, for the first time in four years.

Once she is dressed appropriately in a gown selected for her by her mother's savvy lady-in-waiting, all sky blue and gold embroidery, Annabeth goes down into the kitchens and asks for a basket of pastries and fruit. Waiting for her in the garden, with a large smile on her face, is Piper.

"Princess," says Piper teasingly.

"Lady." Annabeth curtsies and laughs, setting the basket of goods on the edge of a white marble fountain and sitting down. Piper, who has several roses in one (bleeding) hand and a bushel of lavender in the other, joins her.

"Letters for you," says Piper, handing over two envelopes— one creamy parchment, the other pearly white and stamped with a blue wax seal. Annabeth opens the first one. _The Royal House of Metis invites you to a celebration in the banquet hall on the evening of the twenty-second, to commemorate the reunion of the betrothed couple Perseus and Annabeth, Crown Prince of Italy and Princess of England respectively._

Annabeth smiles and puts the piece of paper back into its envelope, and opens the second one. Hating to ruin the wax seal, which is a dazzling shade of Cerulean blue, she pulls the frost-white parchment out. _The Crown Prince Perseus of Italy and companion the Prince Jason of Germany will be arriving no later than midday on the twenty-second of June._

"I have until noon," says Annabeth, showing the letter to Piper. Suddenly she feels sick, and wishes she had brought water with her to the garden.

"Hey," says Piper, recognising her friend's nerves. "Eat. Come on, this is probably your last meal alone with me. Let's enjoy it." She picks a particularly plump pastry filled with jam and gives it to Annabeth, who makes sure to be careful eating it— the pastry leaves white sugar on her fingers. Piper grins at the jam dripping onto Annabeth's lips as she takes tiny bites.

The sun is rising higher in the sky. Piper has taken her hair down from the braid she does every night, and the light is turning mahogany into the scattered peel of a tangerine.

"Annabeth," says Piper, serious. "He's gonna fall in love with you at first sight."

"It'll be the hundredth sight," says Annabeth. "Remember, he lived at English court for a year."

"When you were twelve! You're a woman now," says Piper, almost pompously, and Annabeth has to laugh. "And, well… you've grown."

"I hope he has, too," smiles Annabeth, remembering the boy she used to bicker with— shorter than her, though skilled with a sword for his age. She nibbles at a piece of pound cake, made with strawberries baked in now so sweet they are soft beads of syrup.

_Later_

As Annabeth is in her chambers, one leg dangling over her windowsill, a maid standing at the door approaches her and says timidly, "Her Majesty requests your presence in her rooms."

Queen Athena is at her desk, writing methodically, when Annabeth arrives; she stands and smiles at her daughter, the kohl on her grey eyes as meticulous as always.

"Annabeth," says Athena, her head tilting. "Are you ready for today?"

Annabeth doesn't answer, but her head jerks downward.

"Annabeth," says Athena again. "Even if you don't fall in love, we still have the alliance."

An alliance between England and Italy. That's what this is all about, isn't it? "I know."

Athena tilts her head. "They've sent a messenger ahead from Newenden— the prince should be arriving within an hour."

"Have you…" Annabeth doesn't want to ask, but she has to. "Have you set a date?"

"For the marriage?" asks Athena. "Yes. Your sixteenth birthday." Then, with a playful smile, "Three weeks should be enough time to fall in love."

Annabeth turns away without another word and leaves, suddenly feeling dread. _No. I will stand there in that courtyard and greet him. No matter what. I have an hour to get myself together and I'm not going to waste it with tears. _

So she spends the time in solitude, walking over the grounds, picking rosemary and thyme and rubbing them over her fingers. Sometime after finding a rabbit in the grass, Annabeth's lady's maids find her and take her to her chambers.

"Your mother's orders, Princess," says one, before bringing out a box and a pallet of rouge; Annabeth is forced to sit in silence as one dabs redness over her lips and the other combs her eyelashes with black pigment— and then there is a shout and it's all packed away and Annabeth is rushing down to the courtyard and the carriage is arriving, pulled by tawny horses, all dark red and brown.

The herald trumpets a fanfare and a man that looks her age steps down from the carriage. She remembers the dark hair and the eyes and the tan skin, but that is the only thing that connects him to her old playmate. Annabeth closes her eyes for a second and the first thing that pops into her mind is _Goddamn, I'm going to marry him _followed by _AAAAAAAAAAA?_

Annabeth stands straighter, as does her mother. From inside the carriage, another man comes out, with cropped blond hair and eyes like the base of a flame— Annabeth instinctively looks over at her right, where Piper almost imperceptibly swoons. He must be the Prince Jason from the letter.

Perseus reaches them, bowing first to Queen Athena and then to Annabeth, who curtsies in return; Jason does the same. Perseus stands beside Annabeth and Jason sidles off to the edge of the path to the palace, quite near Piper.

What with all the nobles and lords arriving for the banquet, Annabeth barely has time to greet Perseus or Jason— but finally the time comes for the banquet, and Annabeth is in her chambers with Piper.

"Annabeth!" Piper sighs, partly in exasperation and partly because the maid tying her corset has just yanked on the strings with vicious vigour. "I'm not saying you should do anything real with him. But maybe the fact that your father is sending a ship piled high with gold and rubies and whatnot tells you that you should probably have a chance to get to know him! Go riding with him or something."

"I'll do what I please with him," says Annabeth, though the thought of going riding with him makes her feel strange. She is considering a russet-red dress for the banquet when Piper, voice muted from the tight corset, says, "I heard the prince likes blue. Maybe if you pick that one…" Piper points at a navy-blue gown with a wide boat neckline.

"Shut up." Annabeth considers tying Piper's corset tighter.

"Oh, stop trying to hide it, Annabeth. I saw the way you looked at him."

Annabeth turns. "And I saw you swoon over Prince Jason!" she says, balling up a piece of parchment from her desk and throwing it at her.

Piper catches it and tosses it into a wicker basket near the bed. "Don't bring that up now."

"Well, he's a prince that is not betrothed and he isn't first in line. You'll be a princess, but you probably won't have to be queen, which is a win-win."

Piper is going to laugh, but the expression on Annabeth's face stops her. The cloud passes after a second, and Annabeth gestures at a pale pink dress with a skirt not unlike that of a large, frosted cake.

"Oh, Annabeth," says Piper.

"Fine! I'll wear a blue one— but for you."

"You look great in blue," mutters Piper. "Thank me later." She addresses a maid. "Bring all of the blue dresses that the princess has."

"God," whispers Annabeth.

The banquet is not intimate. Annabeth heads one end of the gigantic table; her mother heads the other. Athena had the good sense to put Perseus just next to her daughter, and Piper and Jason next to each other.

Over the course of the banquet, Annabeth learns that Perseus prefers to be called Percy, that him and Jason are cousins, that he sneaks into the kitchens and helps the baker sometimes, that he has been sword fighting since the age of ten, and that he does, in fact, favour blue. By the time dessert is served Annabeth is starting to think she could maybe stand to be married to him.


	2. Chapter 2

Piper is not dancing. She is drinking bubbling champagne, standing next to a cousin of Annabeth's, and looking over the room.

Percy and Annabeth are dancing, formally, tentatively, and Piper feels a short tug of sadness. At first she thinks it's loneliness, and that she longs to dance with someone, but Piper knows who that person is. She needs to stop denying her feelings.

Lady Piper wishes it were she that were engaged with Annabeth. What was first admiration when she started at English court is now an infatuation so strong she can't help but think of her princess every night. Jason is a looker, sweet and smart, but sometimes Piper just wants to wrap her arms around Annabeth and kiss her until the sun comes up and back down again.

She has always known that Annabeth would one day marry another person. But she has hoped that one day in her chambers, or in the garden or near the river, something would click and they would fall into each other. It has not happened, and Piper doubts it ever will. Percy leans in to whisper something to Annabeth and Piper turns away, finishing her glass and putting it down.

Piper is leaning against the wall and looking at the rings on her fingers, one of which was a gift from Annabeth, when someone approaches her. Jason. Piper smiles. Handsome and titled— if she manages to marry him, her family would be proud.

"Hi," says Jason. He fidgets for a second, then, "Do you want to dance?"

"Of course," says Piper quickly, and he takes her hand and they spin for a moment, their palms touching. The music sounds the same as ever but Piper feels like she can only hear the plucking sound of the strings and not the notes themselves. While she is lost in thought Jason says quietly, "You are beautiful."

She jolts, smiles. "Thank you, Your Highness."

"Jason," says Jason. "Please."

"Of course," says Piper, and her lips twitch.

_June 23_

Annabeth is in blissful sleep when someone taps her on the forehead. She gasps and sits up, only to knock into her brother, Malcolm.

"Oh, my god!" she whispers, before breaking into a wide smile. "When did you get back?"

"Ten minutes ago," he says, hugging her. "I hope you didn't do anything dumb when I was gone."

"Fuck off," she grins. "What time is it?"

"Eight in the morning. Oh, also," says Malcolm, "I'm excited to meet your loverboy."

"Malc."

"Yup?"

"Take a bath. You smell like my horse's ass."

She picks up a pillow and throws it at him, and he laughs and leaves, making sure not to close the door behind him. Annabeth supposes she had better get ready as well.

When she comes downstairs, Annabeth's father is sitting on his throne, listening to a peasant relate his story of accusation of murder. She lingers just outside the throne room, taking a slice of bread from a tray a servant is carrying.

She can hear the peasant sobbing. She does not turn; she has seen plenty of subjects cry at court, and her father always manages to calm them down. Annabeth reaches into the pocket of her dress and brings out the earrings her father gave her— pearls hanging from small gold hoops. Just as she is putting them on, she sees someone out of the corner of her eye.

It's Percy. She smiles at him, and he approaches her, standing a respectful distance away from her, but still near enough to allow for conversation.

"Was your accommodation comfortable?" she asks.

"Of course. I have to say I thought the curtains were drawn because of the lack of light."

Annabeth laughs. "Yeah. It isn't very bright here, but it gets better."

Percy is going to say she would make it brighter, but he decides against it. Despite being betrothed, it has been years, and yesterday he was taken aback by how much harder it would be to make the marriage purely a matter of politics. But then again, marriage is a lifelong sentence, and before he can stop his line of thought Annabeth asks him, "Want to go riding with me today?"

Percy is silent for a second. Annabeth wants so badly to keep herself together, but she says, "I know a place we can go. It's really beautiful." She wonders if she means to say _romantic_, but she does not want to take a risk that big, especially when confronted with a man like Percy.

"Of course," says Percy, and he smiles, although inside his heart is kind of jabbering at the other organs in his chest and he wants to grin widely, but he reminds himself that he has to meet her father in a few minutes and tries to collect himself.

The peasant wanders out of the throne room with tear-stained cheeks and Annabeth walks in first to greet her father. He allows her to kiss his cheek, and holds her hand for a moment, smiling gently.

"The prince of Italy is meeting you next," she says, turning around and leaving. Then, walking past Percy just outside the throne room, she stops for a second and mutters, "I put him in a good mood for you. Thank me later."

It is just past lunch and Piper and Annabeth are in Annabeth's chambers. Annabeth is putting on trousers underneath her skirt, and Piper is offering her bites of the mousse that she brought up from the table. When Annabeth has smoothed down her dress and sat on a rocking chair in the corner, Piper says, "I think I could marry Jason."

Annabeth raises her eyebrows. "You've known him for a day."

"I'm not saying I _will_. I'm saying I could. And you've known Percy for a day!"

"Well, it's obligatory."

"And you already asked him on a date!"

Annabeth scowls. "It's not a date, Piper. We aren't having a candlelit dinner on the river surrounded by musicians and fairies."

"Whatever you say," grins Piper. Annabeth puts her face in her hands.

"Should I wear something else? Rouge? Damn it, my aunt is getting to me." Annabeth wrings her hands and frowns, biting her lip. Piper gets up and picks out a few tins and a brush, sitting next to Annabeth.

Softly and soothingly, Piper speaks to Annabeth and dabs colour on her face. "You wouldn't want to wash yourself out, so I'll add a little blush to your cheeks. Don't worry, you have nothing to lose and everything under control. If he didn't like you at least a little, he wouldn't have agreed to come. Look up."

When Piper is done, Annabeth stands and secures half her hair up with a pretty brooch Piper supplies. "Keep it," says Piper.

"Thank you," Annabeth says, taking Piper's hand for a second. Then she leaves, and Piper is left standing in her best friend's bedroom, holding a tin of rouge and an empty plate.

Annabeth knocks on Percy's door. He opens it after a few moments. "Are you ready to go?" Annabeth asks, desperately trying not to look at a short strand of hair curling over Percy's forehead.

"Yeah," says Percy. "I mean, yes."

They walk down to the stables and leave the palace shortly after, a guard following at a distance.

For a little while, there is forest— and forest, and forest. It is sun-filled, and a vibrant if a little dark shade of green. But soon the trees thin, and patches of farmland appear. Farmers stop to wave at the two horses riding by.

"Just a little more," says Annabeth. She urges her horse faster, and Percy has to follow; soon they are racing up a hill, and as it crests Annabeth slows and turns to him. Below them is a lake, water dark blue and shimmering. Percy is the first to go, steadily heading towards the bank. They reach the bottom of the hill, and there are sparse trees growing here and there, but Percy has already dismounted and is walking to the pebbly beach.

Annabeth dismounts as well, and her shoes make dents in the dirt as she walks, eventually shifting stones. He purses his lips— "I wish I had swimming clothes."

She does not hesitate. She kicks off her shoes, unclips her skirt from around the bodice of her dress, and undoes her corset; in trousers and her embroidered shirt, she runs to the water and dives in.

"Annabeth!" Percy shouts. She surfaces and grins. "What are you going to wear?" he calls at her.

"Oh, come on!" she yells. "I have the corset. I have the skirt. What are _you _going to wear?"

"I'm not going in," he says, because he didn't think about that part.

"Oh, really?" Annabeth asks. "The prince of Italy? Who went on about the beaches and the sailing and the fish he catches every summer at his villa in Cirella? You aren't coming in?"

Percy is already sprinting towards the lake. His knees hit the water and he is under, trying to see how deep he can go. When he reaches halfway between the bottom and the surface, he looks up. Annabeth is lying on her back above him, and as he watches she flips over and kicks down into the dark blue.

As is customary for people underwater, they wave at each other, grinning, before heading back up together. Annabeth is on her back again, before she gasps— "Shit!" and her hand goes to the back of her head. She finds the brooch and unclips it, looking at the citrine and the rubies surrounding it. Turning, she paddles until her feet touch slick stones and she sets the brooch in the pocket of her skirt, finally at ease that she will not lose it.

_Vienna, Germany_

"Zeus," says Hera, singsongy. There is a letter in her pale hand, and she gives it to him. He is tempted to light it with the candle on the bedside table, but his wife only approaches him for futile matters half the time. He reads it.

Hera is smiling tightly, cheeks bunched like alabaster fabric. "Surprise!" she smiles.

"Congratulations," says Zeus drily. "You've finally done something of worth."

Hera's lips draw tighter against clenched teeth. "Yes," she says after a sweet pause.

"Arrange for the lady to go to English court. She can meet Jason there." Zeus smiles at Hera, before dipping the corner of the paper into the flame next to him. Hera turns around and marches out of his room. As soon as she reaches her own chamber she unrolls a short piece of parchment and writes feverishly.

_Lady Bellona, _

_Your daughter may meet Jason at English court. She will be as safe as ever— I will correspond with the House of Metis accordingly. I am sure Jason and Reyna will become fond of each other soon, seeing as the marriage will not be as political as an alliance._

_ Thank you._

_ Regards,_

_ Hera_

_A/N. Constructive criticism is appreciated! Thank you for your review whether it was positive or negative._

_Yes, this fic contains underage (18, for me) drinking. 16 year olds drink, you'll find. That's why this is rated T. _

_Thanks for reading! _

_Pip x_


End file.
